Archive of Our Own

Sakura finds it, one afternoon, sunlight glinting off its bronze surface from a half-opened trash bag at the side of the street. 

It’s a strange object. It looks similar to the teapot he sometimes sees Kotoha use at Cafe Pothos, but more elongated and brass-coloured. He takes a while to process what it actually is, between when he first spies it and when he crosses the street to pick it up. 

It’s an oil lamp. Like the fairytale ones he used to read about as a kid, while flipping quickly through storybooks he picked up after sneaking into bookstores. If the worker saw him there, he'd be chased off for driving customers away. He only ever saw glimpses of those stories before the books were inevitably snatched from him and he was scolded for loitering or causing a nuisance. When he was a child, he treasured those snatches of fantastical tales that every other kid would hear from their loving parents as a bedtime story or a childhood tale. It made him feel, at least for a little bit, like a normal child. 

The street is otherwise empty. The oil lamp is warm in his hand, like it's filled with liquid sunshine. Sakura, overtaken by childish desire and bittersweet nostalgia, lifts his other hand and presses it against the side of the lamp. 

Carefully, hesitantly, he rubs it a few times. 

Nothing happens. Sakura's mouth twists, ears instinctively turning red. It was a silly act, one that he immediately regrets. What did he expect would happen, anyway? A genie, to pop out and—

A plume of smoke explodes from the tip of the lamp. Sakura drops it with a surprised yelp, instantly terrified that he's somehow set off a hidden bomb. 

Though, the strange blue-coloured smoke taking shape in front of him disproves his assumption instantly. Slowly, it gathers and increases in density until it becomes something vaguely similar to a human male, though its end is still connected to the mouth of the lamp. 

"That’s awfully rude of you, don't you think?" the smoke-man asks. 

Sakura stares. 

"What the fuck."

"Yada yada, I’m a genie, yes this is real, no this isn't a prank, yeah you found a magical lamp or whatever, yes you get three wishes. Now pick me up already, I have to stretch up an awful amount to reach your eye-level like this."

The supposed genie isn't lying. The smoke that links his vague form to the lamp is long and thin, like stretched clay. Sakura, not taking his eyes off the figure, bends down to pick up the lamp. As he lifts it from the ground, the string of smoke between the genie and his lamp shortens until the genie sighs in what is probably relief. 

"That's better. Now, congratulations! You found a magical lamp! You get three wishes and I'll grant them. Absolutely anything goes, you just need to say the word," the genie says, fake cheer evident in his voice. 

Sakura kind of extends the hand he's holding the lamp in away from himself, as if to gain some distance between the genie and himself. It doesn't work. 

"Uhh." he starts. The genie looks at him expectantly for a few seconds. When Sakura still doesn't say anything, the genie heaves a great sigh. 

"Or," the genie continues. "I can just go back into the lamp and you can carry me around until you figure out what three things you want to wish for. Does that work?"

"...yeah," Sakura responds, a little bewildered. 

The genie sighs again, long-suffering, and retreats into the lamp. Like this, in his hand, the lamp could almost pass off as a normal one. Sakura stares at it for a moment and promptly decides to regard everything that just happened as a stress-induced hallucination. He shoves it into his jacket and doesn't think of it until the end of the day. ‎

When he reaches home, it's to all-encompassing silence. His apartment is tiny as is. With no neighbours to make noise, the quiet presses in on him like a constricting cage. 

Sakura shrugs off his Furin jacket. As he's reaching for a hanger to put it on, something metal falls out and clinks against his floor. Having completely forgotten the strange incident earlier, he has to take a second to remember what it is. When he finally does, he picks it up warily. 

He stares at it for a little. Then, in a fit of exhaustion—it's been a long day of studying and patrols and being accosted by his multitude of classmates—he rubs it again. 

The genie pops out in a plume of blue smoke. "Hello there! Decided on your first wish?"

Sakura hasn't. He opens his mouth to say as much, but suddenly the silence in his apartment is sucking all the air out of his lungs painfully and he can't say a word. 

See, he gets like this sometimes. Sometimes he sees townspeople walking side-by-side in the streets, or shop owners helping each other unload deliveries, or even his own classmates slinging arms over each other's shoulders, and his own skin feels too small on him. 

It's less like loneliness and more like emptiness. An empty hole, right in the middle of his chest, that pulls in everything around it and can never be filled. He is not lonely but he is alone. Even when he is sandwiched between his vice-captains, both of them loud and bright and alive, he feels like he is separated from them by a glass wall. Something he can see through, but which stops him from reaching out to them. 

And it hurts. God, it hurts. He's been hurting from the day he first learned what pain is and it's never stopped, not even when he came to this town and was accepted for who he is. He thinks he might hurt until the day he dies. 

But now, he doesn't have to. There's an alleged magic lamp in his hand, one that can grant any wish at all. 

So Sakura opens his mouth, and says, 

"I wish I wasn't alone."

The genie smiles, a practiced customer-service expression, and snaps his fingers. 

Then he frowns. He looks at his smoky hand for a few seconds, enough for Sakura to start fidgeting. 

"I’m sorry," the genie says, a little confused. "I can't grant wishes that are already true."

Sakura stares. "But—"

But it isn’t true, right? He’s still alone. Everyone has accepted him, but that's it. Their kindness doesn't extend any further. After all, it's not like any of them really care about him. When push comes to shove, they'll still turn their back on him. That's how it has always been. That's how Sakura has always lived. 

He is always going to be alone.

But...Suo and Nirei didn't. None of the people in his class did. When push came to shove, he wasn't alone. He's never been alone since he came to this town. 

Sakura’s breath catches in his throat. 

He already knows, doesn't he? Deep down in his chest. He's not alone. He hasn't been for a while. 

He’s just been too scared to admit it, afraid that everyone really will leave him eventually. 

His vice-captains have shown him, again and again, that they won't ever abandon him. They have promised to stand by his side, come hell or high water. He keeps looking forward, keeping his gaze fixed on the threat before him, while being too afraid to look backwards for fear that he’ll find no one standing behind him. Even though he knows it’s a fact that Suo and Nirei, along with this school and this town, is standing behind and supporting him, he’s still scared that it isn’t true. 

So why can't he finally just take them at their word and choose to believe it?

"Nevermind," Sakura says. "My bad. I think I need more time."

The genie eyes him for a second, but just shrugs and returns to the lamp.

Sakura keeps the lamp at home. Although he's still skeptical about its powers, he's at least smart enough to know that the risk of it falling into the wrong hands is too great to carry it around casually. 

When Nirei's birthday comes around, the class insists on celebrating for their vice-captain together after school. Sakura is 80% sure it's just an excuse to hang out together for food. Regardless, he's dragged out to the class birthday party and they pile into Cafe Pothos like it's natural. Although Kotoha gripes about it for a bit, they can tell she's happy for Nirei too. 

Sakura's never celebrated anyone's birthday before. Kids would whine about how Sakura's appearance was too displeasing to look at and throw tantrums until the adults decided it was easier to just exclude him than to go through the effort of reassuring the birthday kids. 

His limited experiences with it originate from stolen glances at festivities, from peeking through a gap in the door to see what the other kids were doing. Sometimes, if he was lucky, he could swipe a bit of cake without anyone noticing. Though, the punishments for being caught spying or stealing cake were far more severe than usual—the adults would say he was selfish, undisciplined and horrible for it, demonising him for the sheer desire of being included. 

Sakura watches his class, now, surrounding Nirei. Each of them is shouting various birthday wishes, many of them rattling off grateful thanks for Nirei's contributions to the class and some rambling endless praise at him. Most hold gifts, from notebooks and pens to new shirts and sunglasses. 

Nirei sits amongst all of them, bashful smile on his face. He's blushing slightly, cheeks flushed from sheer happiness. Someone compliments him for another positive quality and Nirei—laughs, delighted and overjoyed. It's a delicate emotion that Nirei shows openly to the class, which the class seems to soak up and seek to uncover even more of. 

Sakura sits and watches, in his little corner, and aches. 

Subconsciously, he knows he does not belong here. He has no place in this perfect picture of classmates celebrating their friend's birthday, of so much shared contentment and warmth. So Sakura stands, knowing everyone's attention is directed away from him for the moment, and slips out of the door with a ring of the bell. 

He goes home because he has nowhere else to go. 

As Sakura slips off his shoes, he spies the lamp sitting quietly on the floor of his room. Something urges him to reach out and rub it again, summoning the genie. 

"Decided on an alternative first wish?" the genie asks, smiling. It may be a touch more genuine than before, but Sakura is too distracted to tell.

This time, Sakura knows what he wants to ask for. 

He wants to feel the same emotion Nirei did, surrounded by people he cares for and who care for him. He wants to know what it's like to laugh freely, genuinely, from receiving overwhelming affection. He wants to learn the shape and feel of the one emotion he doesn't know, hasn't known since he was a child and someone first told him, you look weird.

Sakura says, "I wish I was loved."

The genie nods and snaps his fingers. 

He pauses again. Sakura gets a terrible feeling of deja vu. 

"...I can't grant wishes that are already true," the genie repeats. 

In the silence of his apartment, Sakura hears his heartbeat in his ears. He tracks the rapid rhythm of it, letting it ground him. His mind feels blank, like the buzzing of his thoughts are contained in an airtight bubble that he can't quite extend his consciousness through to reach. 

There's a sharp knock on his door. All at once, the bubble bursts and his thoughts rush into his head in a dizzying mess. 

The genie wisely hides back in the lamp as Sakura scrambles to his feet to get the door.

When he opens it, he finds his entire goddamn class crowded into the narrow corridor outside his apartment. They're squeezed along the small space, some of them even spilling onto the stairs. At the front of the group, Nirei and Suo stand before Sakura. 

Nirei has somehow gained a birthday hat, placed askew on his blonde hair. It adds to the abandoned puppy look Nirei gives Sakura when he says, "Sakura-san, we thought we lost you!"

Sakura's instinctive response is to sputter. "Don't say it like I died!"

Suo sighs disapprovingly. "Sakura-kun, how could you leave your class behind like that as our grade captain? You didn't even inform any of us beforehand."

"Yeah, Sakura-chan," Kiryu pipes up, pouting at the side. "We had to find out when we wanted to sing happy birthday to Nirei and you weren't there!"

Tsugeura adds fuel to the fire, albeit unintentionally. "That wasn't very virtuous of you, Sakura-kun."

Sakura does feel kind of guilty now, but—

"That doesn't explain why all of you are here?!"

Nirei smiles. For a second, Sakura remembers that Nirei isn't just a knowledge-gathering vice-captain. He is also a sixteen-year-old teenage boy who is entirely able and willing to conjure up sneaky tactics and well-crafted plans. 

"Well," Nirei grins, "If Sakura-san leaves the party, then we just have to bring the party to Sakura-san!"

The class echoes his sentiment, taking their vice-captain's declaration as an invitation to voice their own opinions. 

Sakura hesitates for the barest of seconds. His class is apparently a pack of vultures in disguise, because they take this chance to swoop in and barge into his apartment uninvited. 

"Hey!" Sakura shouts, but they've already colonised his space. There's cases of takeout being put down, as well as plastic bags full of bottled drinks and convenience store snacks. Finally, Nirei carries in a box with a transparent cover that reveals a cute duck-themed birthday cake and puts it down in the center of the room. 

It's lively in Sakura's apartment. His classmates are chatting away, joking and shoving one another, laughter filling the usually stale air. Nirei opens the cake box with a dramatic unveil, one that draws oohs and ahhs from everyone. It's a lovely scene, one that's filled with love and affection. 

And most of all, as his classmates drag and push Sakura to Nirei's side, it's one where he belongs. 

As Suo teaches Sakura how to use a lighter, as their classmates sing the birthday song and Nirei blows out the candle, as Anzai presses a plastic knife into Sakura's hand and tells him to cut the cake equally, and it better be equal, I swear I'll be able to tell if I have one crumb less than Kurita, Sakura feels his chest overflow with so much warmth that it bubbles up and escapes from his mouth as a laugh.

After that, Sakura doesn’t think of the lamp for days on end. 

Not until he stumbles home, after school, his hand clutched in the fabric of his shirt over his chest. He opens his door and kicks off his shoes, mind hazy and thoughts distant. He feels like he’s about to throw up his own heart as he collapses onto his floor. 

It’s not the first time this has happened. He still remembers, as a child, curling into the furthest corner of the room with his hands grabbing at his own hair, scrubbing at his teary eyes and covering his ears as if trying to will himself out of existence. He thinks he’s lived with these bad days forever. 

The solid ground beneath him steadies him just enough for him to hike himself up onto his knees. His own legs buckle beneath him when he tries to stand, so he just sits there for a few seconds and tries to recuperate. His breaths are loud in the stale air of his apartment. His heart thuds irregularly in his chest and the air presses in on him harder and harder, not stopping in its increase until he fears he might faint right there on his floor. 

He waits another full five minutes, letting his breathing to settle a bit, before he stands up slowly and makes his way to his bedroom. 

The room is both out of focus and more in focus than it’s ever been. His gaze darts around each part of it, concentrating on separate items in his room instead of the entire environment as a whole. The star curtains Nirei put up, the kettle Suo left, the table Kiryu brought over for him, the weight Tsugeura gifted him…his eyes fixate on each object for a meager handful of seconds before skittering away like a spooked cat. He thinks he might be melting alive, like he’s being liquidated from sheer atmospheric pressure. 

For a split second, his curtains adjust just enough for a golden ray of afternoon sun to hit something golden and bright that draws his focus instantly. 

It catches him off guard for a moment, but only for a moment, before he’s lunging for it. He practically scrubs his palm against it, lips already shaping around the words before he even fully thinks them. 

“I wish—I wish I’m able to feel happy.”

The genie, still gathering into existence, snaps his half-formed fingers. 

Really, neither of them are surprised this time when the genie shakes his head. 

“I can’t grant wishes that are already true,” he says again, not unkindly. 

Sakura is still in the strange position he ended up in during his urgent scramble to get to the lamp. One of his legs is bent in a particular position that’s cutting off bloodflow, so much so that it’s gradually turning numb. He focuses on that instead of anything else, letting the static in his limb wash out the static in his head. 

He clenches his fists into the flooring of his room and nods in response to the genie, even though there’s a burning in the back of eye sockets and a choked sensation in his throat, because it was baked into him as a child to give a response to any prompt to avoid another punishment for alleged disobedience. 

“Okay,” Sakura says. “I knew that.”

He didn’t. Did he? Maybe he did. He doesn’t know. 

What does it mean to be happy?

“Okay,” Sakura repeats. Through the fog of his mind, he registers that the genie hasn’t left like he usually does. The blue distorts in the background of his vision, and he realises that what’s blurring his vision is the tears welling up in his eyes. 

“Your belongings,” the genie prompts suddenly. His voice is soft, softer and gentler than Sakura’s ever heard it since he picked up that lamp. 

When Sakura doesn’t respond, the genie repeats, “Your belongings. Where did they come from?”

Sakura blinks the tears out of his eyes. He doesn’t bother wiping them away when he looks around his room, his gaze still frantically roving around at a speed too fast to really fix on anything at all. Eventually, a glint of yellow jumps out at him and his eyes stop on it. 

“The—the curtains,” he rasps, voice choked from his suppressed tears. “My vice-captain—Nirei, he brought them for me. He used to use them—as a kid.”

“I see,” the genie replies, like coaxing an injured stray cat out from beneath a dumpster. “How about the others?”

Sakura draws in a breath, forcing out a stuttered answer despite the wetness on his cheeks and the cracks in his voice. 

“There’s this tea set in my cupboard,” Sakura says, raising a hand to vaguely gesture in the direction of where it’s kept. “There’s a kettle, too, though I don’t use those much. It’s from my other vice-captain—Suo, I mean.”

Sakura tries to shift himself into a more comfortable position, moving in jerky stutters as his own breath rings out in the oppressing air of his room. His wrist knocks against something wooden, smooth and familiar against his skin. 

“This guy from my class—Kiryu,” he stumbles over his words, then says, “He gave me a foldable table. I don’t know how to fold it, but it’s useful.”

“This,” he starts, pointing at a weight, “is from this muscly guy in my class—Tsugeura. I use it when I’m bored. There’s some protein powder in the cupboard too. I haven’t used much of it.”

When he’s finished, his room feels larger all of a sudden. His awareness of the items in it should objectively make the space feel smaller, but somehow it’s like they’ve opened up the room and he can breathe again. 

“I can’t grant wishes that are already true,” the genie repeats, like he’s trying to say something through the sentence. 

Sakura thinks he might understand. The star curtains Nirei put up, the kettle Suo left, the table Kiryu brought over for him, the weight Tsugeura gifted him…

What does it mean to be happy?

“It’s been so long since I last felt truly happy,” he says, “that I forgot how it feels.”

The sun is shining through his star-speckled curtains. The kettle smells faintly of tea. The table is warm and firm beneath his hand. The weight lies in a corner of his room. 

“Sorry,” Sakura apologises. “I think I might have to take a while longer.”

The genie isn’t irritated at all this time. He just smiles, a soft and warm thing, and returns to the lamp. 

Unexpectedly, when Sakura actually uses the first wish, it’s in school. He brought the lamp along this time, having glanced at it in the morning and grabbed it on a whim. 

The five of them are gathered around before class starts, chatting about anything and everything. These days, Sakura feels more confident about keeping up with their rapid conversation and abrupt topic changes, which is why he’s trying rather actively to participate today. 

“Yeah so the milk tea they gave out made me throw up twice but it was free so totally worth it,” Kiryu claims. He vaguely waves one hand about to stress his point while his other hand, along with both his eyes, remain fixed on the game he’s playing on his phone. 

Suo sighs. “I don’t think food poisoning is ever worth anything, Kiryu-kun…”

“I disagree!” Tsugeura cuts in. “I saw a video last night titled ‘How To Lose 15 pounds in 7 days with Peel-a-Pound Soup’ and the comments showed the effectiveness of the soup!”

Sakura squints. “Are you implying this soup induces food poisoning to lose weight?”

Nirei has already pulled up the video and is currently scrolling through the comment section. 

“This will make your body release gases that have been banned by the Geneva convention,” he reads, then looks up in a very concerned manner. “Okay well objectively I don’t think what this induces is food poisoning, but also please do not make or drink this.”

Kiryu giggles, “From the sounds I hear in the toilet sometimes, I’m starting to think the water fountains might be filled with this soup.”

Sakura pales. “I drink from there all the time!”

“Just wait for it to kick in, Sakura-kun,” Suo says mercilessly. 

“Don’t tease him, Suo-san!” Nirei tells Suo disapprovingly. “He’s just kidding, Sakura-san.”

“You!” Sakura barks, face stormy and already raring for a fight, but Kiryu cuts him off. 

“Can we not ragebait at seven in the morning,” he groans, slumping back on his seat. 

Nirei looks worried. “Did you not get enough sleep last night, Kiryu-san?”

“Why wake up early when you can never wake up again?” Kiryu rebuts instantly. “Anyway, I was up late grinding my game for the new event that’s going on.”

Tsugeura frowns. “You should know that getting at least eight hours every night is important for your health! Plus, it helps you grow taller too!”

“I AM A HUNDRED AND SIXTY-FIVE.”

“Damn you’re old,” Sakura responds instantly, entirely serious. He’s confused when everyone bursts into laughter and Kiryu looks like he’s lost all hope in humanity. 

“He meant his height in centimetres, Sakura-san,” Nirei supplies helpfully. He’s pulling out his notebook, probably meaning to jot down the new information. 

Sakura glimpses his notebook. It’s dirtier than when he last saw it, smudged with dirt and even has a few stains that look suspiciously like dried blood. Nirei sees Sakura looking over in concern and hurriedly gives an explanation. 

“I just brought it out one too many times on patrols,” he says, lifting his notebook. “None of the blood is mine, don’t worry.”

Kiryu grimaces at the battered sight of it. “I think it’s time to get a new notebook, Nirei-kun.”

Nirei shakes his head. “I’ve barely used up the pages of this one! It’d be such a waste of money to get a new one.”

Suo joins in on trying to convince Nirei, along with Tsugeura, but Sakura has gone quiet. 

He excuses himself to go to the toilet. Once he’s there and is sure that he’s alone, he pulls out the lamp. 

After rubbing it, Sakura says, “I wish for a new notebook.”

The genie stares at him. “That’s it?”

“Oh yeah,” Sakura starts, as if reminded. “Make it more resistant to stains and stuff. Also, do you think you could make it Nirei’s favourite brand?”

The genie sighs. He takes a moment to shut his eyes and rub his fingers over his nose bridge, which gives Sakura sudden deja vu of Hiragi carrying out the same action while dealing with Umemiya. 

“Alright,” the genie acquiesces. “Are you sure?”

Sakura’s fist clenches and unclenches at his side. From the first day he arrived at this town, Nirei was the first friend he made. He’s stuck by Sakura’s side through everything, first as a friend then as a classmate and now as his reliable vice-captain. Sakura trusts Nirei because Nirei has always supported him. As a grade captain—as a friend—he would like to try and at least repay Nirei, even if in a small way. 

He nods.

The genie snaps his fingers, summoning a brand new notebook into existence. It looks just like any other notebook, so much so that Sakura tests it with his nail as he takes it. The cover doesn’t even give under the pressure, still pristine without a single nail mark when Sakura retracts his finger. 

“It’s not completely indestructible or anything,” the genie says. “But it is more resistant to day-to-day damages you kids might face.”

Sakura holds it, heartbeat a little loud in his ears. “Thanks.”

The genie nods before he returns to the lamp. Sakura stands there, in the middle of the toilet, with a notebook in his hand. He has no idea how he’s going to give this to Nirei. 

Eventually, he returns to the classroom before his class tears down the school trying to find him or something. It seems he did take a while, because lessons start soon enough after that he doesn’t get a chance to corner Nirei. 

He resorts to tugging on Nirei’s sleeve after school, face flaming. Nirei, like the trusty vice-captain he is, catches on quickly. He helps rid them of their friends’ questions, so they’re left alone in the classroom once everyone’s cleared out. 

“What’s wrong, Sakura-san?” Nirei asks worriedly. “You looked uncomfortable in the morning, too, when you rushed off to the toilet.”

Sakura doesn’t even know how to broach the topic. He stands there opening and closing his mouth repeatedly like a fish out of water, hands held behind his back and clasped nervously around the gift. 

Eventually, the full force of Nirei’s concerned puppy eyes provides Sakura with enough courage to shove the notebook into Nirei’s arms. 

“It’s…for you,” he bites out in a murmur, resisting the urge to take off through the classroom door. 

Nirei gazes down at the book in his hands like it’s a newborn baby. He looks up at Sakura with wide, watery eyes. 

“Thank you, Sakura-san! I promise I’ll treasure it.”

Sakura sputters, but the fuzzy warmth in his chest is undeniably pleasant. 

Suo goes down during a routine patrol. 

They don’t notice it at first, because who would expect Suo to be injured in a fight? Besides, they have their hands full enough with the large group of people who tried to jump them, a new gang that tried to take the chance to defeat a few Furin first years. 

The first to notice is Nirei, ever-observant, keeping to the sidelines to scribble down observations about this new group. In between one glance at the fight and the next glance downwards to write in his new notebook, he glimpses a flash of red. Not the familiar copper shade of Suo’s hair, but instead the eye-catching shock of crimson. 

Nirei jerks his head upwards. Suo is stumbling backwards, left eye wide in uncharacteristic panic, one hand clasped over the bleeding gash in his head. The person who inflicted it on him is advancing closer, wielding a pocket knife. He opens his mouth to shout, to warn someone or do something, anything, but the enemy is faster. 

No one misses it, this time, when Suo is slammed against a metal shutter with a bang. The most concerning part, however, is the knife sticking out of his side. The person who put it there tugs it out carelessly, laughing cruelly, though not for long. Sakura descends upon him with all the rage of a double-crossed god, ripping the knife from his hand and knocking him unconscious in five seconds flat. 

Quick work is made of the rest of the ragtag gang as Sakura and Nirei both dash to Suo’s side, Nirei dropping to his knees next to Suo to apply pressure on the wound while Sakura checks Suo’s consciousness. Suo seems to be half-conscious, eyes open but half-lidded and muddy. Sakura waves a hand in front of his gaze, but he doesn’t react in any physical manner. 

The events that follow go by in a blur, as the townspeople all rush over to help in a flurry of concern and worry. They somehow get to the hospital, where Suo disappears amongst nurses who spout reassuring words. 

Nirei must have texted their class chat at one point, because they all arrive in a huge group, falling over one another to ask what happened. All of them crowd the waiting room, and would most definitely have rampaged into Suo’s room if not for the staff politely asking them to remain in the waiting area. 

Sakura jerks back into reality when a horde of his classmates swarm him, demanding whether he’s hurt, if Suo’s going to be okay, how long they’re going to have to wait, rattling out each question with such machine-gun speed that it gives him whiplash. Nirei takes over for him when it’s clear he has frozen from the excess of questions, answering each of them patiently in his place. 

When attention has been mostly directed away from him, Sakura rises from his seat and treks to the toilet in a daze. He pulls the lamp out of his jacket after giving the whole place a cursory once-over. The genie pops out after a few rubs, withholding a greeting from the look on Sakura’s face. 

“He’s—” Sakura croaks out, voice cracking in sheer terror now that he’s alone. He vaguely registers that he should probably be making his wish and that it isn’t the genie’s job to listen to him whine, but it’s not like he can say any of this in front of his classmates. They’re already worried enough, and he would just be adding to the pile of concern. 

Though, once he’s started, the words stutter and trip out of his mouth like falling pebbles. “He…he’s not supposed to be hurt. This isn’t how it’s supposed to…he’s never been hurt. He shouldn’t be hurt, not like this, not so badly that—”

The words lodge in his throat. His pulse thrums in his palm from where he’s pressed the pads of his fingers into it, rapid and fluttering beneath his skin. The genie hovers a little, clearly at a loss of what to say. 

“Can you…” Sakura finally says, the soft and trembling sound of it like a plea, “...can you save him?”

The genie smiles reassuringly. “I can. I just need you to wish for it properly. Could you do that for me?”

Sakura exhales slowly, hissing the air out through his teeth. 

“I wish that Suo’s injuries don’t have any negative effects that last for longer than a week,” he says, picking his words thoughtfully. 

The genie thinks this over for a bit, then suggests, “It might be better to have the wound not fully healed, to avoid suspicion. Would it work if I heal it to a point where it’s easy to take care of and move around with?”

Sakura considers the offer. 

“Just…help him. Please.”

The genie snaps his fingers. There’s no visible nor immediate change, no dramatic gasp like a dramatic tv show, but a silent sort of relief fills Sakura. It’s so potent that he stumbles, chest loosening in an instant, and sighs. 

When he returns to the rest of the class, they’re still milling about like anxious ants and chattering nervously amongst themselves. Though, the shift in Sakura’s mood seems to infect the rest of them. Sakura spies the same relief that he feels radiate through his class and melt across many of their faces, easing the tense atmosphere. Nirei looks marginally less stressed too, even reducing his endless mumbling by at least half. 

It helps tide them over until Suo is eventually discharged. His vice-captain is nearly buried under all their classmates when he returns, and Sakura keeps a close eye on him. Apparently, the wound wasn’t as deep as they worried and Suo’s unconsciousness was more from the shock and pain than anything serious. 

A week later, Suo’s wound is almost fully healed. Their class is too overcome with gladness and delight to question why a stab wound is nearly gone after just a week of recovery, instead congratulating their vice-captain and urging him to take it slow. 

Suo himself, on the other hand, isn’t nearly as willing to brush the rapid healing aside. More often than not, Sakura begins to feel a copper gaze on him, even if the culprit is focused on something else when he turns around. The feeling that Suo knows more than he’s letting on sustains even as he gradually integrates back into their patrol schedule and fights. 

In the end, Suo drops it. Sakura has been careful to keep the lamp at home, preferring the risk of it disappearing from his house over it being discovered by Suo. The lack of any suspicious activity likely worked to reduce Suo’s interest, or so Sakura hopes. 

Though, it feels less like a win than a truce. If Sakura had to put the feeling into words, he would say it’s something similar to “I’ll let it slide”. 

Sakura still breathes a sigh of relief. Suo knows better than to start a battle he can’t win, especially one where the definition of victory isn’t even clear. 

After the close shave with Suo, it’s a month before Sakura picks up the lamp again. This time, it’s not because of a bout of melancholy, nor an incident with one of his vice-captains. 

The afternoon sunshine is warm through Sakura’s balcony windows when he gets home, earlier than he usually does thanks to no patrol scheduled that day. He slips off his shoes and pads into his room, half-slumping and half-throwing himself onto the square of his floor lit by the sun. 

Sakura’s cheek presses into the cool sensation of the floor even as he melts from the warmth shining onto the rest of his body. The contrasting temperatures are calming in a way nothing else can be, and he indulges in it fully and completely. He sighs, tranquil, before his eyes flicker open. 

He’s met by the closed doors of his closet, which he knows contains the lamp. Sakura stares at them for a bit longer, too lazy and comfortable to get up, and thinks idly about what to do for his last wish. 

Time ticks by. Sakura doesn’t move from his spot, drifting somewhere between daydreaming and asleep. The shafts of sunlight shift with the ending of day, dragging slowly across the floor of his bedroom until he’s mostly shrouded in shadow. The warmth lingers behind, regardless, sinking into his bones and relieving the aches there that come with the change in season. 

He breathes, in then out, and just exists. 

When Sakura’s stomach eventually growls loud enough for him to take notice, he puffs out an exhale before pushing himself up with his arms. No matter how lethargic he gets, skipping a meal isn’t an option. 

He stretches as he ambles his way to his front door, awkwardly trying to get into his shoes. He taps a heel against the ground to secure the shoe fully as he grasps the door handle and turns it, still yawning from sleepiness. 

Sakura steps out of his apartment, and nearly knocks someone straight over. 

Sakura stops, readjusting himself, and squints to focus his vision. Though, even with his vision blurry and unclear, the head of yellow dandelion-like fluff is unmistakable. 

“Nirei?” he rasps, voice still half-asleep. His limbs are loose, his chest is warm and his mind is filled with thoughts as soft as cotton, which is why he doesn’t even register the name that slips out of his mouth. 

Not until Nirei blinks up at him, mouth open and stunned eyes watering. 

“Sakura-san!” Nirei near-sobs in response. Sakura feels his cheeks redden and brows furrow, but another voice chimes in before his brain fully carries out his reaction. 

“Aw, Sakura-kun,” Suo frowns sadly, playing up his disappointment. “You forgot my name?”

“Shut up,” Sakura snaps instantly. “You know I didn’t, Suo.”

He’s still slowly coming back to himself, drawing the melted puddle of his consciousness together into a shape that vaguely resembles his usual self, which is why the name was attached to the back of his retort. Though, Suo doesn’t seem to mind that it was accidental and is gleeful enough from the utterance of his name that his smile widens visibly. 

“Why…” Sakura croaks out, as the realisation slowly dawns on him that he doesn’t usually find his two vice-captains outside his apartment. “Why are you here?”

“Well,” Nirei begins, nervous gaze darting to Suo. “We realised we haven’t really checked in on you in a while, so we thought we could drop by for dinner.”

The smell of food hits Sakura then, causing his mouth to water. Nirei lifts a plastic bag like offering a newly-bought treat to a cat, crinkling it enticingly as he reveals a neatly packed omurice. 

“I convinced Kotoha-san to let me buy omurice takeout for you,” he explains. Sakura, hungrily sniffing the air, steps aside to let them in from sheer hunger. 

All three of them pause to slip off their shoes at the entrance as the door shuts behind them. It’s weirdly domestic, Sakura finds, as if they’ve all just returned together to their shared home. The feeling triples as Suo and Nirei carry the plastic bags into his apartment, making their way into his room like they’ve walked the same path a million times. 

When Sakura follows, it’s with a pang in his chest. Like he’s searching for balance, he sets a hand on the doorway to his room. He just stops, for a bit. 

He watches Nirei carefully unpack the food onto the small foldable table, observes how Suo fills up the kettle and pours in tea leaves, tracks the way both of them navigate around the room and each other like they’ve been doing this their whole lives. It feels like watching them through a television screen, until they both turn to him and invite him into this lovely scene with matching smiles. 

He takes a step forward, hand slipping down the doorway, and pauses. 

The sun is setting, though it’s still not dark enough for him to switch on the light just yet. Without the white glare of electric lights, his room is shrouded in purple-black like mottled bruises from a particularly bad fight. 

Sakura blinks and Nirei’s yellow hair comes into focus, mixing with the final dredges of gold sunshine. Next to him, Suo’s hair looks near-black but glimmers maroon and auburn when hit by light. The colours mix in the hazy lighting of sunset, melting into a soft orange glow blanketing his room. If Sakura feels considerably sentimental, he’d call it something like the shade of healing bruises. 

He joins them by the table that’s far too small for the number of takeout boxes crammed on its space. As he clumsily tries to fold his legs in a way that lets them all fit, his knees knock against Suo and Nirei’s legs. 

It’s warm, he thinks. 

Nirei had the foresight to borrow cutlery from Kotoha, which they use to dig in. Suo sips tea as Sakura and Nirei scarf down the meal, standing up to turn on the light for them when it gets dark enough. 

Eventually, they manage to eat all the food and wash it down with Suo’s tea. Nirei stretches, content, as Sakura leans back on his palms and sighs. They cooperate to clear the table of trash, stacking the plastic boxes together to dispose of in the plastic bags they were brought in. The kettle, along with their three teacups, replaces the empty boxes while they finish it off, drinking quietly around the tiny table. 

It’s not rare for Sakura’s room to be as quiet as this. Though, as Nirei accidentally rustles the plastic bags, as Suo sets down his teacup with a quiet tap, as Sakura drains the last of his tea and rises to put it in the sink along with the cutlery, he thinks this might be considered much noisier than it usually is. He’s used to being alone in silence, as well as being swarmed in noise, so this new experience of something not quite one or the other is something he’s unfamiliar with. 

Nirei joins him soon after, putting his teacup beside Sakura’s in the sink. Suo carries the entire kettle over with his teacup, having dumped the tea leaves into the plastic bags. The three of them wrestle to wash the dishes before Sakura firmly kicks them back into the room because it’s my house, dammit, go sit your asses down. 

The sound of running water from the tap is the loudest thing in his apartment as he rinses the cutlery and teacups before washing them as best as he can with some dish soap. The kettle he fills with soapy water and shakes a little before trying to scrub the inside with his hand, slippery with bubbles. In the background, Nirei and Suo murmur quietly from the other room. Sakura kind of wants to stay here forever. 

When he returns, the two boys stand from the table. 

Nirei looks slightly apologetic as he says, “We should get going. Thanks for having us!”

Sakura nods. There’s a warm fullness in his chest from the time they spent together, which keeps him from feeling too sad about their departure. He leads them to the front door, albeit a little awkwardly from not knowing exactly what to do. So, he just leans against the wall and watches as his vice-captains pull on their shoes. 

“Goodnight, Sakura-san,” Nirei beams, eyes crinkling. 

“Goodnight, Sakura-kun,” Suo smiles softly, hands folded neatly behind his back. 

Sakura feels his mouth twist, ears instinctively turning red. 

He stares at the floor when he says, “Goodnight, Nirei, Suo.”

He doesn’t say, thank you for coming over, but the way they both grin tells him they understood what he meant. 

The door closes with a click. Sakura turns to go back to his room. 

Beside his sink, there’s cutlery and teacups still wet. Around his apartment, there’s the aromatic scent of tea still lingering. In his room, there’s the foldable table still innocuously standing there. 

On a whim, he pulls the lamp out of his closet and summons the genie. 

“Hey there,” the genie greets. “You ready for your third wish?”

Sakura hesitates. The genie, sensing his indecision, suggests, “Something for yourself, maybe? Your first two wishes have been for others, so you could use this third wish on you. Is there anything you want?”

It’s been an ordinary day. Sakura had lessons, came home after school and spent the afternoon resting. The only part of it that deviated from usual was the appearance of his vice-captains for dinner. He knows that it wasn’t a spontaneous decision, because Nirei must have carefully tracked their patrol schedules to find a day where all three of them were free. Suo was most likely the one to suggest bringing food to soften the surprise of their visit and to convince Sakura to let them in. 

Even though he knows all this, he still can’t begin to fathom the fact that someone would put in so much thought and effort into caring for him. It’s strange to be able to rely on someone for defence in fights, for information in unfamiliar situations, for food that he could have just as easily obtained himself. He’s trying to get used to it. 

The air smells like bitter tea leaves. The back of his teeth tastes like omurice when he licks over them. The trace remnants of soap on his hand feel slippery under his fingers. 

“No,” Sakura says. “I think I have everything I wished for.”

The genie smiles. “I see.”

They stew in silence for a few seconds as Sakura tries and fails to gather enough courage to speak up. 

“I, uh—” Sakura falters. “I was thinking I could give it to you. The last wish, I mean.”

The genie freezes. 

“I thought that after everything you’ve done for me, I could at least try to pay you back a little,” Sakura explains, slightly hesitantly.

There’s a vulnerable expression on the genie’s face that softens out the harsh shadows of his blue smoke. 

“Are you sure about this?”

Sakura nods. He’s never been more sure about anything in his life. 

The genie exhales. He shuts his eyes, holding still for a moment, before snapping his fingers. The sound ricochets in the enclosed area of Sakura’s room. 

“Thank you,” Sakura tells him, as sincerely as he can. The genie smiles. 

Sakura blinks, and the genie is gone. 

The room is otherwise empty. The oil lamp is cold in his hand, like any other inanimate metal object. Sakura, overtaken by faint grief and hopeful curiosity, lifts his other hand and presses it against the side of the lamp. 

Carefully, hesitantly, he rubs it a few times. 

Nothing happens. Sakura lowers himself onto his knees and sets the lamp down gently, like an urn of ashed remains.